


Ozymandias

by Tashilover



Category: Endeavour
Genre: Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:36:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1911177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/pseuds/Tashilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time forgets everything, as Morse is about to find out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A time travel fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ozymandias

Tina was flustered. Of course she was flustered, who wouldn't be in this situation? She didn't know what to say, what to do next, so she did what her mother would do in this situation: be polite.

"Um, I would give you the guest room, but, um, there's boxes and stuff in them," Tina said in a rush as she dragged out blankets and pillows. "I'll take them out tomorrow, so tonight you can have the couch. Don't worry, it's actually really, really comfortable to sleep on."

Morse seemed as uncomfortable as she did. He was looking around the living room with this permanent crease on his forehead. He stared uncertainly at the paintings, the colored pictures, and the various nicknacks decorating the walls. He was also staring at the flat screen tv, the scattered DVD cases and Tina's X-box with a frown. "Thank you," he said. "That's... very kind of you."

"Yeah, no problem."

Tina took the next two minutes to set up the couch. When she was done, she stepped back, hands together, nervously trying to think of what else to say. What could you say to a guy who just time-jumped nearly forty years into the future? For god's sake, he left before he even saw the _Moon landing_. How was he going to handle smart phones and the internet?

"You're welcome to anything," Tina said after a moment. "Food, towels, the bathroom."

"Thank you," Morse said again. "I do have one question though... is... Joan still alive? Sam?"

"I... are you sure you want to know?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

Tina felt like she was killing a puppy in front of a child. "Sam... died before I was born. Car accident, I think. Grandma Joan died about two years ago from Alzheimer's."

"Alzheimer's?"

Oh right, it wasn't known back then. "It's a type of dementia."

Morse sat down on the couch. He was struggling, Tina could see, to hold it all together. She wouldn't blame him if he started screaming right now.

"She used to talk about you, you know," she said quickly. "About your adventures."

"I was a police officer, I was doing my job, they were not adventures."

"The way she talked about it, she made it sound like adventures. Did you really catch a serial killer who used opera as his modus operandi? Oh, that means-"

"I know what it means," he said. "And yes. But don't romanticize it, people _died_ on that case."

Tina swallowed back any enthusiasm she had. She had heard from great-grandfather Morse was a bit of a pretentious college boy, but _sheesh_ , she had no idea. "Okay... I'll go get you a spare toothbrush, then I'll let you go to sleep."

The way grandma Joan talked about Morse, Tina couldn't help but wonder if grandma had a crush on the guy. Granted, he was decently good-looking, though his personality needed work. Than again, if Tina was suddenly shoved into the future and realize everyone she ever knew and loved were dead, she be a bit twitchy too.

Leaving the conversation as is, Tina went upstairs to get that toothbrush. She took her time to gather floss, mouthwash, a razor, and a few clean hand towels. When she tried to come back down only a few minutes later, she heard Morse crying in the living room.

Suddenly any irritation she felt for him vanished. Her heart broke at the sounds of his quiet sobs. She waited half-way on the stairs, waited till she heard him quiet down to come forth with the personal items.

"Here," she said, placing down the items on the table, politely ignoring his red eyes. "I usually get up around seven-thirty, but the coffee machine is on a timer, so don't be startled if you hear it turn on randomly."

"Yes. Thank you."

"Um... goodnight then."

"Goodnight."

 

 

 

 

 

Tina woke before her alarm went off. She only slept for a couple of hours, waking up every few minutes, reassuring herself that indeed, she did have a time-traveler sleeping on her couch downstairs.

Now what?

She had been asking this question over and over ever since she met Morse. It was more than realizing that time-travel was a thing and all of Tina's disbelief in science fiction had been blown to hell. It was more than meeting the man whom your grandmother and great-grandfather told stories about with sad eyes and a nostalgic voice. Those truths were like finding out the sun was going to die in twelve billion years. Sure, it was horrible to know everything you and your species has ever done were going to be wiped away like condensation on a table, but because it was so _big_ to understand, you might as well not bother.

What was Tina going to do about Morse? He didn't have a job... anymore. No one except Tina even knows he exists now. Didn't he have a sister? Perhaps they could find her, maybe she had kids and Morse could stay with them.

That was going to be a short conversation. "Hi, this is Morse, your uncle who went missing in the sixties. He actually time-traveled into the future and that's why he still looks like he's in his late twenties."

Right. Tina could feel the wind from the door slamming on her face.

Wide awake now, she turned off her alarm and got up. She had to meet up with three clients today and approve a couple of items. She was thinking about taking a sick day, and letting the interns handle it.

She came quietly down the stairs, not wishing to wake Morse sleeping on the couch. She was surprised to see the light on from the living room and went to investigate it.

Morse was already awake. Several books had been laid out upon the table, some of them opened, some of them closed. Tina noticed a few of them were history books. A twinge of unease settled in her stomach. What was it like to read events like the Berlin Wall and the Hubble telescope?

"See anything interesting?"

Morse startled. Crap, Tina didn't mean to sneak up on him like a weirdo.

"Not much," Morse said, settling down. "Technology has come a long way but human beings haven't changed. New wars, new politicians."

"I don't know... civil rights have come a long way."

Morse lightly grinned at her. "Yes, I suppose it has."

Thank goodness Morse was so open-minded for a guy from the sixties. Tina was afraid once he saw she was half-Korean, he was going to bolt. "Look, do you want some breakfast? I have eggs and bacon."

At the word 'bacon', Morse perked up. "Oh, yes."

"Didn't have bacon often?"

"No, it was too much of a luxury. Also, I arrested the local butcher for stealing cars. After that, none of the butchers in town wanted to deal with me."

What was that like? To be isolated by the locals for simply doing your job? "Then you're in for an experience. Also, have you ever heard of something called, cappuccino?"

 

 

 

 

In the end Tina went to work. As much as she wanted to stay home and made sure Morse didn't have a panic attack about the future, she couldn't leave her work to a bunch of interns. She managed to stay for a couple of hours, and once she felt satisfied her job wasn't in the drain, she skipped out early.

She first went to the store to buy more bacon. For such a skinny guy, Morse certainly didn't stop at his second helping. He also didn't care for the cappuccino, and preferred his coffee so black, it could eat through an engine. Tina bought a few more items in anticipation for dinner tonight. Usually on Fridays she liked to order pizza, though she wasn't sure how Morse would take to eating pineapple and sausage with extra cheese.

Before she went home, she bought Morse a mobile phone. Tina didn't own a landline and it was probably not a good idea to leave the time traveler without a way to communicate with the world, even though she would be the only one he would communicate with.

"Morse?" Tina said as soon as she walked through the door. "Morse? Can you hear me?"

There was no answer. Tina placed down her bags in the kitchen and kept calling his name. "Morse? Morse, are you here?"

Was he asleep? She checked the living room. The blankets were folded on top of the pillow. His shoes weren't there. Nor his jacket.

Panic began to rise inside of Tina. Did he travel _back_? Did he travel _more_ into the future? Or did he panic like she was about to and ran out of the house, determine to find at least one person who knew him and loved him and was determined to see them no matter what? His sister should still be alive. Maybe he went to go see her.

Tina had to find him.

Grabbing her keys, she ran to the front door. Hopefully Morse hadn't wandered far. As Tina hurried outside, fumbling for her car alarm, she remembered she had not put away the bacon or any of the perishables yet. She floundered for a horrible second, torn between taking the two minutes to go back inside to shove everything into the fridge, or leaving on the countertop to go search for Morse.

Just as she decided to fuck the perishables and leave them be, Morse was walking up the driveway. "Morse!" Tina yelled out in relief. "Where _were_ you?"

"I took a walk," Morse said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"A walk?"

"Yes. People still do that in 2014?"

Sarcastic little fuck. "For fuck's sake, you almost gave me a panic attack!" Tina huffed. "I thought maybe you disappeared! Or you got kidnapped!"

Morse scowled. "I'm over sixty years old," he said, walking past her to inside. "I'm not incompetent."

"That's not the point. As if right now, you don't exist. You don't have a name in this century, you don't have a job or fingerprints. There is no birth certificate. If you suddenly vanished, what am I suppose to say to the police?"

"It was a _walk_."

"Next time, just tell me. Leave a damn note or something!"

Morse looked like he was going to argue further. His shoulders dropped, he sighed and said, "Yes, alright. I promise I'll leave notes next time."

Tina groaned. This wasn't how she wanted to conversation to go. "Fuck that," she said. "I got you a phone."

 

 

 

 

 

It was intereting to watch Morse slowly figure out the touch phone. Tina was slightly afraid he would break it or deem it like witchcraft, but he was right, he wasn't incompetent. Some parts he didn't understand, and he pursed his lips and brow so often Tina was suprised his face wasn't going to be permanently stuck that way. Tina taught him how to call her, how to text, and how to use the camera.

"Can I play music on this?"

Tina snorted. "For a guy who has never held a mobile phone in his life, you certainly have high expectations of its use."

He glanced up at her. "So can I play music?"

"You can, but it's best not to on the phone. The speaker is small so the sound quality isn't the best. Here, let me introduce you to my best friend, _youtube_."

Ten minutes later Tina then introduced him to headphones. Tina remembered Grandma Joan saying Morse was a opera lover, but Tina didn't recall that until Morse was blasting it from her computer. He seemed delighted to find out he could listen to so many of his favorite singers without having to re-buy all the records he lost.

Tina was glad to find out one source of happiness for him. Perhaps later on, she'll buy him an ipod. "Are you hungry?" She asked, moving into the kitchen. "I got more bacon if you're in the mood for it."

"I found Elizabeth."

"What was that?"

Morse lowered the volume on the computer. "I said I found Elizabeth. Joyce's daughter."

"Joyce... your sister, Joyce? How did you find-"

"I used to be a detective, remember? I want to meet her."

" _What_? Why?"

"Because she's my niece-"

"I understand that, but how are you going to explain your situation to her? _Hi, I'm your uncle who disappeared before you were born?_ "

"I wasn't planning to reveal myself to her," Morse said. "I just want to see her. Find out what happened to Joyce."

How come every time Morse opened his mouth, he said something that broke Tina's heart? He just wanted to find out what happened to his little sister.

"We can always check the internet," Tina offered.

Morse scowled at her.

 

 

 

 

Tina was ten years old when Great-Grandpa Freddy died. Her last memory of him wasn't the funeral, but nearly a year earlier, when they were visiting him for Easter.

He never said much, from what Tina could remember. He would rather sit in his giant, soft chair and enjoy the company of others. At times, when the adults were doing something else and great-grandpa was by himself, Tina thought him to be lonely and would walk over to talk to him. "Hi, grandpa."

She never called him 'great.' It was too many words for her to say.

"Hello, sweetie," he would say back, smiling gently at her. "Did I ever tell you how I once chased a man who had no legs?"

Tina giggled. He did, hundreds of times, but she liked the way he told his police stories. "No."

Not all of his stories featured Morse in them. Sometimes they had Jakes or Carter in them. Tina liked the stories with Morse because Great-Grandpa would spend the most time on them, building up the mystery and suspense of the cases.

Great-Grandpa would always do his best to keep the blood and gore and violence out of the stories, but Tina, the ever curious and morbid, would ask, "How did he die?"

"Oh... um... he was shot."

"Where?"

"Honey, I don't think telling you that would help-"

"Yes it will. Because if he was shot in the head, then it means this was a personal killing and I would suspect a family member or friend did it. If he was shot in the torso or leg, it suggests it was random."

Great-Grandpa frowned at her. "Where do you get these things?"

"Grandma," Tina quipped, then waved to grandma Joan.

After Great-Grandpa died, Tina continued reading mystery novels, watching detective shows and engaging in puzzles and mind-twisters. She even kept a picture of Great-grandpa and Morse in her room, back when they were both police officers and younger than they ever will be. If it wasn't for that photo, as soon as Morse knocked on her front door, she would've chased him off with a bat.

"I have her Facebook."

"Her _what_?"

Tina moved away from the screen to show Morse. "Elizabeth's... um, social page. She has pictures. See? This is her."

Morse moved in closer to look. "Does everyone post so much information on themselves?"

"Pretty much."

"Seems dangerous," he said, sitting down in front of the screen. "This is her?"

"That's Elizabeth, your niece."

Elizabeth was now in her early forties. She still kept a good deal of youth and showed no signs of aging just yet. No wrinkles, no white hairs, no spots. She was a beautiful woman. "Are there..." Morse swallowed. "Are there pictures of Joyce?"

"I could look."

Morse moved over to let her explore.

Luckily Elizabeth didn't block her account from outsiders. Great-Grandpa didn't talk much of Joyce. He briefly mentioned her once or twice in his stories, but overall, Tina had forgotten Morse even had a sister.

Geeze, Elizabeth had a lot of photos. She was one of those people who posted instagram pictures of their _food_. "How did you find Elizabeth?" Tina asked, her eyes still on the screen.

"The library. It was easy to get access to old records. From there, I simply followed the trail."

"That's so cool."

Morse frowned at her. "What's so cool about it? I did nothing special."

"Oh, um... I forgotten how much legwork it takes to track someone down, is all. Can't help but admire the way things were done in the past."

"You mean slow, inefficient, and boring?"

"Okay, I get it, don't romanticize the past. I can't help it, it's not every day you meet a _gumshoe_ from the sixties."

"Gum... we were never called that!"

No wonder Great-Grandpa called Morse a wet blanket. "Elizabeth has sixteen albums on her Facebook but none of them contains your sister. I don't think your niece knows how to upload physical photos online."

"Then there's no other choice. I'm going to see Elizabeth in person."

"Are you s-"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Morse snapped at her. Tina jumped at his sudden angry tone. "Will you stop treating me like I'm a child? You don't need to hold my hand, you don't need to shield me!"

At first Tina flustered under his tone. Morse had been so quiet up until this point. It was like realizing a mouse had a roar of a lion. Tina floundered, then got defensive. "Well excuse-fucking-me if I was just trying to be thoughtful! I mean, I only opened my door to you, a complete stranger, when any other sane person would have slammed it on your face! You're just damn lucky I'm more open-minded than most people!"

"I am thankful for your help, believe me, I am, but I am an experienced police officer, I don't need you to coddle me during this whole situation."

"Maybe it's not you that needs help- has it ever occurred to you that this is hard for _me_?"

Aw, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Tina wished she could take those words back. She didn't mean to sound like a whiny child, as if her problems were more important than Morse's. It was like complaining about the barista over heating the coffee when there were starving children in the world.

Morse blinked in confusion. "What?"

"God," Tina groaned, pinching her eyes. "Look, I didn't mean... Sorry, sorry-"

"No, what are you talking about? Tell me."

Great, he wanted to confirm her whininess. "Fred Thursday may have been your boss, but he was _my_ Great-Grandfather. You knew him for what, three years before you traveled? I knew him for ten. I knew Grandma Joan for fifteen, and I had to watch her disintegrate like a dry leaf as the disease took her mind. I don't have siblings, Morse. I never knew who my dad was and mom died only last year. My whole family is gone. And I know it sounds stupid to even complain to you, because I still have my friends, my job, and my _time_. But having you here... talking about my Great-Grandfather like you only saw him yesterday... it's hard. And... for god sake, Morse, I have _pictures_ of you. Not a lot, but enough that my brain is telling me you're not a time-traveler, but a friend whom I haven't seen in ages. I'm just... a little confused, okay?"

She kept expecting to turn around and realize this whole time Morse was nothing more than an illusion her mind made up. It happened to Grandma Joan when the Alzheimer's got worse. She would have conversations with Sam and her mother, and it broke Tina's heart every time she saw it happen.

At least Morse wasn't laughing at her or sneering at her so-called pain. "I'm sorry," he then said, surprising Tina. "I didn't realize how hard this could be on you too. I appreciate all your help and everything you've given me. Truth be told, I am scared out of my wits about seeing Elizabeth. I don't know what will happen, I don't know what I want to happen. I just know it needs to be done."

The gentleness in his voice was an incredible thing to listen to. "Morse had morals," Great-Grandpa once said. "As pompous as that boy was, I trusted him more than men I knew for thirty years."

Morse really did mean it.

"Alright..." said Tina. "Alright. Let's go see your niece."

 

 

 

 

 

Tina drove. Morse wanted to drive, offered to drive, but Tina didn't want to be pulled over and have the police find out Morse didn't have a license. Or a birth certificate. She did allow him to pick the music station after he became disgusted when an Eminem song came on.

"What the _hell_ is that?"

"It's called, rap."

"Nope," he said, pressing the button and switching it over to an all-instrument station. At least it wasn't opera.

They drove for a few hours, stopping occasionally for toilet breaks and food. Morse seemed to have shaved off some of his haughty attitude and talked about a few of the cases he and Great-grandfather worked on. He even talked about the opera-serial killer, though he did his best to not make it sound like an action-packed mystery novel.

Tina was _enthtralled_.

Once they got out into the wide open country where the roads were a little less paved, the traffic all but gone, Tina slowed the car to a complete stop and said, "Hey, you wanna drive?"

"Really?" Morse asked.

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it. Come on, switch with me."

"Okay," Tina said once she was on the passenger side. "This is an automatic, so no need to shift between gears. You adjust the speed by how hard you press on the pedal and break."

"Alright, it's not that different."

"Just keep it under fifty around here."

It didn't take him long to get used to the feel of the car. Within a minute the windows were rolled down, the radio was off, and despite Tina's warning, they drove at a steady seventy, letting the air and the roar of the engine fill their ears.

" _What ever happen to the Jaguar?_ " Morse yelled to be heard over the wind.

" _The what?_ "

" _The Jaguar! The black car Inspector Thursday used to drive!_ "

" _I don't know! I don't remember him mentioning a car!_ "

" _Shame! I like that car!_ "

Twenty minutes later they slowed and turned down a small street. At the end of it was a single, simple country home. It was like something out of a Thomas Kinkade painting. It had a short, brown fence with vines growing over it. There were wild flowers growing around the property while potted flowers sat on the window still. A clothesline was filled with white sheets blowing softly in the wind, and to finish off the picturesque setting, wild butterflies were everywhere. This was where Elizabeth, Morse's niece, lived.

"Let me do the talking," Tina said as Morse put the car into park.

Morse huffed. "Why? I use to question people all the time. I can handle myself."

"You used to _interrogate_ people, not interview. I interview people all the time for my job. Cue in if you need to, but overall, let me do it."

Something told Tina he was not going to behave.

Elizabeth Linhale moved to this country home a few years ago after her husband died. She had done a few paintings for the local libraries and Tina had called earlier under the guise of doing an interview on her. Elizabeth seemed excited by the prospect.

Morse said he didn't like the idea of lying to his niece, but understood why it was necessary. He had a heavy camera hanging around his neck, though Tina had yet to show him how it worked. It was just for show.

She knocked on Elizabeth's door. It opened, revealing a woman in her mid-forties. The photos she had of herself on her Facebook were obviously photoshopped or old, as the woman standing before them had grey hair, wrinkles around her mouth, and a gigantic mole on her forehead.

Tina felt Morse stiffen besides her. "Hello," Tina said quickly. "I'm Tina Brown, we spoke on the phone earlier."

"Oh yes," Elizabeth said. "Please, come in. I'm so excited that both of you are here. I'm sorry, what was your name, young man?"

Crap, they didn't go over a name for Morse. Morse's eyes were already wet, and Tina nearly panicked, thinking he was going to break down.

"Fred," Morse said, clearing his throat. "Sorry. Allergies."

"Oh dear, then let me get you some tea to help you. Please, sit down. I'll get a kettle on."

She showed them to the simply decorated living room, then bustled to the kitchen. Tina leaned over and whispered, " _You didn't act like this when you saw her Facebook_."

 _"I was a little shocked, is all_ ," Morse grunted, wiping at his eyes. _"I can handle it better now."_

" _Good. Now quiet, she's coming back."_

Morse was able to throw an irritable look towards Tina before Elizabeth came back into the living room. "I have to say I am very flattered about this," she said, sitting down on a giant green chair.

"I'm very glad you are," Tina said, bringing out a recorder and setting it down on the table in front of them. Morse narrowed his eyes in confusion at the sight of the little object. "First I'll ask a couple of general questions and we'll go from there."

Tina worked for a graphic design company. Though her job didn't require her to have interviewing skills, she has been with enough clients to pretend the real thing enough. Elizabeth didn't seem to notice and gleefuly answered each question like she was on the red carpet at Hollywood.

After ten minutes of asking about her paintings and her experiences at the library, Morse had enough.

"Miss Elizabeth," Morse interuppted Tina before she asked another question about paint materials. "Through our investigation-"

"Investigation?"

"Our research," Tina jumped in with, throwing Morse a slight glare. "We learned you were once related to a local Detective Constable, an Endeavour Morse."

"Oh yes, Uncle Morse! You must be talking about the novels!"

Morse blinked. "Novels?"

Elizabeth got up from her chair, crossing over to her book shelf. "I never met him," she said. "He died before I was born, but my mother talked about him all the time. She kept a few photos of him when he was a police officer... ah! Here. My mother wrote these before she died."

At the word _died_ , Morse's cheeks tightened. He didn't respond, didn't cry, but Tina felt him tremble beside her.

Elizabeth pulled out four small hardback books, each one only a hundred pages long. She passed them over to Tina. "The Adventures of Morse," Tina read out loud. "These are... fiction?"

"No, everything in there is true," Elizabeth said. "Granted, my mom changed a few names, paraphrased conversations, and gave it a dramatic flair, but yes."

Morse flipped through them. "These were printed nearly twenty years after I... your uncle died."

"I think this was my mom's way of keeping her brother alive. She got permission from a... Inspector Thursday, I think, to print them. She renamed him _Inspector Friday_ in the books. They were never popular," Elizabeth said, sighing. "Only a couple of thousand were ever sold. I'm pretty sure you can find a few good copies on the internet."

Morse opened one of the books to the dedication page.

_To my brother, Endeavour. I know a small part of you probably finds this embarrassing, but I don't care. I miss you everyday and I hope to see you again soon. You sister, Joyce._

Elizabeth cocked her head. "You can keep them, if you want."

"Really?"

"Yes. I've been contemplating giving them to the library. Besides, Fred, you look like you were just given a treasure."

Morse smiled sadly at her. "Thank you..."

 

 

 

 

 

"What a nice woman," Tina said afterwards, as they walked back to the car. "I think I'll pull a few strings and send the questions and answers to be published in an actual magazine."

Morse said nothing. He held the books tightly in his hands, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing over Joyce's name on the spine.

"So now what? Do you want to try to see if you can go home?"

"I don't know," he said. "The fact that these books exist already prove I never go back."

"Don't say that. There's no fate in what we make ourselves."

"What?"

"Sorry, sorry. I forget, that's over forty years of films you haven't seen. Let's just try, Morse. Who knows what we'll find. In the meantime, if you want, you can stay with me. Great-Grandpa was a faithful man, he would have wanted you to at least try."

They got to the car. Morse paused, then tossed one of the books over to Tina, who fumbled and dropped the keys trying to catch it. "What the-?"

"I know you like mysteries. You read. I'll drive."

**Author's Note:**

> Dunno why I wrote this. =3


End file.
